


Art School Wannabe-Art AU

by itsokayournot



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Art AU, F/F, Lucy's alive in this even if she doesn't get any screen time, M/M, Mitali and lucy have and always will be best friends and so will simon and penelope, POV Penelope Bunce, So is Natasha, agatha is dance, baz is in fine arts, college art au, he does a lot of charcoal, penny is a film major, simon is in sculpture, specializing in ballet, they've known eachother since they were kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 09:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17846411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsokayournot/pseuds/itsokayournot
Summary: "“Oh calm down.” Agatha reaches her hand up. I accept it and pull her to her feet. “I’ll be in your stupid video, whatever. But I really do have to practice right now. Get out Bunce.”"Penelope Bunce attends Watford School of Arts and rooms with her long time best friend Simon Snow and his freeloading boyfriend. She has one year left before she graduates with as a film major, and the only thing in her way is Professor Piper and her elementary level assignments. In an effort to break the mold and stand out her senior year she is forced to enlist Agatha "I love pink" Wellbelove to help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE shout out to [@alwayscarryonjily](https://alwayscarryonjily.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for making some [amazing art](https://alwayscarryonjily.tumblr.com/post/182884170620) for this fic!
> 
> And another big shoutout to [@foxy-alien](https://foxy-alien.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for beta-ing this fic for me and telling me when things were stupid and when they were good and being my best friend and favorite person.

**PENELOPE**

I sigh and shake my head, looking up from my notes, only to witness Simon shovel an obscene amount of pastry into his mouth. “Simon, for Christ’s sake will you  _ please _ close your mouth.”

He tries to mumble around the scone, it sounds a bit like, “I can’t.”

“What do you mean, ‘ _ you can’t _ ’? Of course you can. All you have to do is just—” I make a show of opening my mouth wide and closing it abruptly, hoping the visual will  _ finally _ convince him to eat like a human being. I’ve known him every day of my twenty-three years of life and never once has he been normal.

Simon rolls his eyes and does one of the biggest, showiest swallows I’ve ever seen. “It doesn’t taste the same,” he says.

“What—your food?” I ask.

He nods.

I stare at him. “ _ How  _ does it taste  _ any _ different?”

He rolls his eyes again. (Which I think might be my fault. Or maybe Baz’s. We both roll our eyes an exorbitant amount for two art majors.) “It just  _ does _ , Penny. Like, the oxygen gives the food air to breathe.”

“It’s food. It can’t breathe.”

“I know that,” Si says, crossing his arms. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“Yes, you are. And you know who else is?” He raises an eyebrow. “My fucking professor.”

“Piper?”

“Yeah. You want know what she assigned for our final project?  _ What is beauty _ ? That’s the whole prompt! There’s a few guidelines, but otherwise that’s basically it. I mean, what kind of elitist bullshit is that? She’s going to get twenty different variants of trees and flowers and all because my class is full of unimaginative twats who wouldn’t know their head from their arse.”

Simon pulls his eyebrows together, frowning more than he already was. “What’s wrong with nature?” he asks

“Everything. I need to do something different.”

I hear the click of the flat door closing, and then Baz’s voice, asking, “Different as opposed to what?” He walks into the living room and into my and Si’s flat like he owns the place.

I throw my muffin wrapper at him. “Either start paying rent or get out.”

He swats the wrapper to the ground and leaves it there, instead opting to sit next to Simon on my couch. (It  _ is  _ my couch; I bought it.) “As opposed to what, Bunce?” he asks again.

“She hates her final,” Simon tells him for me. “And her professor.”

“Tell your mother to fire her.”

“Which one?”

“Piper,” Simon answers, shovelling the rest of the scone in his mouth and curling in towards Baz. He tucks his feet into the crack between the cushions of the couch. Baz looks at him with disgusting admiration. It makes me want to puke.

“Why do you want to chuck your professor?” Baz asks, looking back at me.

I roll my eyes. “Because the assignment she gave is stupid! And it isn’t even a throw-away assignment; it’s our  _ final _ . The last thing I’m ever going to be graded on is what I believe  _ beauty  _ is. What’s the fucking point of that?”

“I don’t it’s so bad,” Baz says.

I squint my eyes at him and glare. “You’ve gone soft since getting a boyfriend, Pitch.”

“I have not!”

Simon pats his arm patronizingly. “You have.”

“What’s so wrong with the beauty thing?” Baz asks, refocusing.

“That’s what I said!” Simon exclaims.

I roll my eyes. They’re impossible. 

Micah and I were never like them. We were never as soft or as brash with each other as those two are. Part of that was the long-distance. I don’t know what the rest was.

I don’t like not knowing. I’m not used to it.

“Of course you would say that, Basil. You’re a type-A narcissist,” I snark.

He smirks. “I have reason to be.” Simon punches his arm, finally sitting up.

“Case in point,” I say.

Baz rolls his eyes and smiles. Something that’s becoming less and less rare the more I see him. It’s strange—back when Baz and Simon were roommates when we were freshers they couldn’t stand each other. Whenever I would hide out in their dorm I never saw Baz smile. Only a scowl here or there, and more often than that, a blank face. He smiles almost every time I see him now.

“Bunce. What’s your problem with beauty?”

“Her and Micah broke up and now everything is ugly,” Simon says.

“I  _ don’t  _ have a problem with beauty. And Micah and broke up over six months ago, Simon. I’m over it. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just… stupid to have this as a final project! There’s so many other themes we could work with besides beauty. It’s so subjective. I’m in college. I want to be making  _ documentaries _ . Not froofy elementary videos about butterflies.”

“But you have to do,” Simon says.

“Because my teacher is a fucking idiot,” I say.

“Well, do you have any ideas?” Baz asks.

I sigh. Loudly.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he says.

Honestly, the only thing I can think to do is nature. It’s the only thing anyone can think of except Trixie. I roll my eyes, thinking of my old roommate. “Trixie is filming Keris,” I say.

Baz sputters. “Seriously? The pixie is filming her  _ girlfriend  _ for a project on  _ beauty _ . That’s rich.”

Simon says, “Trixie isn’t a pixie.” The same moment I say, “Says the one who almost exclusively draws his boyfriend.”

“She is too a pixie, and I do not  _ only  _ draw Simon.”

“Mhm,” I say, unconvinced. Baz glares at me.

“She isn’t a pixie, guys,” Simon tries to convince us.

“Simon, she leaves glitter  _ everywhere _ . I should know; I lived with her for a year.”

“She practically floats when she walks,” Baz chimes in. “And her ears are just a little bit pointed. Have you ever noticed that?”

Simon frowns at him. “Have you ever noticed that you look like a vampire?”

Baz gives him a deadpan look. “Is that supposed to be a joke or…?”

“No, I’m serious! You’ve got the widow’s peak and the sneer and your eye teeth are kind of sharp.”

I look at Baz curiously.

“Snow, I do not look like a vampire. Have you seen my complexion? I’m not exactly pale.”

Simon waves his hand in the air, dismissing Baz’s rebuttal. He says, “Besides that. Everything else about you screams vampire.”

“Have you seen  _ Twilight _ ? I mean, not all of those vampires are white.”

“Exactly! Thank you Penny.”

“Not you too, Bunce. If anyone was to bring common sense to this conversation I thought least of all I could count on you.”

“I’m sorry, Baz, but Simon’s right. You’re basically a vampire. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you walk outside and  _ not _ squint like the sun is burning you.”

Baz frowns at me, but Simon’s smiling wider than a hyena right now, he’s so happy with his observation. Baz grumbles something under his breath, and Simon’s smile gets wider.

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Bunce. Why don’t you just treat this assignment like one of your documentaries? That way it won’t look like Trixie vomited glitter all over it.”

I go to respond, but stop.

If I could reformat the assignment to act as a documentary, then I could do whatever the hell I wanted. And it’d be different.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” I say.

Baz smirks. “Glad I could be of service.”

I smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny pays Agatha a visit.

The ballet studio is not somewhere I usually go.

I used to all the time with Simon back in first year, before him and Agatha first started dating. Back when Simon first had the delusion that they would be perfect together.

It looks the same as I remember it: an old green door that creaks when you open it. And a single hallway with dark floors that branches off into different studios. That’s all the building is—one hallway and five rooms, all lined with mirrors and ballet bars.

I watch from the doorway of the final room of the hallway as Agatha stretches her hands down towards her ankles. She’s clad completely in a horrifically pink outfit. The only thing without any hint of the color his her blonde hair, pulled into a tight bun at the base of her neck. She grabs her toes and pulls them back towards her ankles and I shudder. Being that flexible is not a human attribute.

Agatha unfolds her back and pulls an arm across her chest. She looks up into the mirror.

The moment she sees me, her eyebrows crease.

“Hey,” I smile.

She frowns at me.

Then goes back to stretching.

I roll my eyes—I should have known that it would be this way. Just because we haven’t talked in a month, she thinks that it’s okay to dismiss me like we haven’t been friends for the past four years.

I’ve only got a few friends, and she’s one of them.

“Agatha, come on.”

Her response comes terse and sharp.

“What.”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

She scoffs. “I’m about to start practising my routine here, Penelope.”

“I can see that.”

“So why don’t you just piss off then.”

“Agatha. I need to talk to you.”

She scoffs again, louder this time. I cross my arms and Agatha stands up and starts pretending to adjust her hair in the mirror. (Not that she needs to. It’s not like there’s anything wrong with it.)

“What is it then?” she asks, not looking at me. “I know you won’t leave until you get what you want; so out with it.”

I glare at her through the mirror—she glares back, throwing an arm over her head and yanking it down her back. Is that even stretching? It looks painful.

“I was wondering if I could film you for my documentary.”

The crease between her eyebrows deepens—I didn’t think that was possible.

“Why?” she asks.

I sigh. “My dumbass of a professor gave us the stupidest prompt for our final and I’m doing a documentary for it and I need you.”

She smirks. “You need me.”

“Christ, Agatha,” I say, rolling my eyes. “It won’t just be you, but yes.”

“Who else is going to be in it?” she asks.

“Simon.”

She rolls her eyes and finally turns to me, arms crossed. “Of course.”

“And Baz.”

There’s a flash of confusion. “How’d you manage that?”

I only shrug. It’s not my job to tell her that her ex-boyfriend is now dating her ex-crush.

Agatha grabs her bag and sits back down, fishing around for something. “Fine. Don’t tell me. Not like you haven’t shut me out for the past month and I have no idea how you’re doing. Whatever. I don’t care.”

“You know you could have just texted me,” I tell her as she pulls out her ballet shoes.

Ignoring me, Agatha grabs a roll of what looks like thin purple duct tape and starts wrapping it around her toes.

God, I’m going to kill her.

The room is long, and it takes me a few steps to stand right in front of her, but it’s worth the effect. I cross my arms again, tilting my head back so I can look at her from under my glasses.

“You  _ know _ you could have texted me.”

She shrugs, still wrapping her toes. The nails are a light pink.

Everything’s always fucking pink with her.

“Agatha.”

“Penny,” she sighs. “I’ve got to practice. You should go.”

I give her an empty look. Then she glances up at me, squinting. “I like the new hair. Green looks nice on you.” 

“Thanks,” I tell her, all bite.

“Oh, calm down.” She reaches her hand up. I accept it and pull her to her feet. “I’ll be in your stupid video, whatever. But I really do have to practice right now. How about yours at noon on Saturday. Alright?”

I smile at her. “Alright.”


End file.
